Remember My Name
by Zane's Girl- Jo
Summary: Ziva meets a young man in Paris while on assignment for NCIS. They have two blissful, passionate weeks together before parting ways forever. When they part, he gives her the first draft of a novel he's working on, and tells her to remember him, that they'll meet again. But when they do, will she remember the mystery he left her with, or the man she fell in love with? AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Remember My Name**

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Summary: Ziva meets a young man in Paris while on assignment for NCIS. They have two blissful, passionate weeks together before parting ways forever. When they part, he gives her the first draft of a novel he's working on, and tells her to remember him, that they'll meet again. But when they do, will she remember the mystery he left her with, or the man she fell in love with? AU. **

**A/N: In this, Ziva was attached to NCIS as a Mossad liaison back in Season one, and McGee is _not_ an agent. **

_Paris, France_

_2000_

He flexed his fingers, getting the kinks out of his muscles, before returning to his work. The soft click of the keys on the laptop that was so comforting a noise to him was currently being drowned out by the music playing in his head. With his iTunes library open and playing, he was lost in the world he had created- the very real, very dangerous, and sometimes funny, world of NCIS and Agent L.J. Tibbs. Though he himself had no experience in federal law enforcement, nor had he ever considered having any experience, let alone a job in federal law enforcement, he did have family that worked in various fields.

"Here you go, _monsieur_." He glanced up, giving the waitress a small smile as she set his cup on the table beside him. Once she was gone, he returned to his writing, reading through the current passage he'd just finished.

_"'It took Lisa only moments to realize that the man she had called father had betrayed her. Leaving her to die in the deserts of Afghanistan, tortured, assaulted, and filled with nothing but hope- false hope, for a rescue that would never come. Sitting alone, back pressed against the cold stone wall, she took a deep breath, closing her eyes. She imagined her baby sister, Tami, the lively, bubbly child with the curled pigtails, ripped from her family at fourteen in a Palestinian retaliation bombing strike. She imagined her brother, Avi, back when he was the protective older brother who would take her to ballet classes. But now... both were dead, and she wanted nothing more than to join them. With only death in her heart, she relaxed, willing, waiting for death to come. And then she heard the gunshots, and the familiar voices of those she'd left behind, calling for her, getting closer...'"_

"Please, do not stop." He looked up, surprise filling his green eyes, as he quickly removed his headphones. "Please, keep going. I was enjoying it." His mouth dropped, and his brilliant mind struggled to think of something to say. But what do you say to the person who sat across from you, the person who just plopped down in the chair opposite as you were reading, without any warning, without asking?

He hadn't been aware that he'd been reading aloud, but obviously he had, for he'd captured the attention of a striking young woman of unknown, foreign descent. She sat across from him, elbows on the table, chin resting in her hand, the nail of one finger between her teeth. Her wide, dark eyes watched him; she sat drinking in every word, waiting for more.

"Um... who... who are you?" He stammered, brow knitting in confusion. "I... I'm sorry, but I don't..."

That seemed to snap her out of her spell. As if waking up from some deep, sound sleep, she lifted her head, blinking quickly. "Oh. I... I am sorry. I... I should not have sat down without asking, but... but I was coming out of the café to find a table, and... and I heard you reading and... and I..." She shrugged, sheepishly. "I realize now that I should have asked permission before sitting at your table. I feel like a donkey's butt."

He raised an eyebrow. "Horse's ass." He clarified. She nodded.

"Yes, that too." She gave him a quick smile, before getting up and moving away from the table. "I will let you get back to your writing."

"Wait!" She stopped, turning back. He sighed, sitting back. After a moment, he pushed her chair out with his foot. "Sit. Please." She felt a smile tug at her lips.

"Really? You would not mind?" He shook his head. She hesitated briefly, before returning to the chair, scooting closer. Then, she crossed her arms on the table and propped her chin on them. "Please, continue."

He studied her briefly, noticing how she waited anxiously to hear the rest of the passage he'd rewritten, like a child eagerly standing in line to meet Santa at the mall. A moment passed, before he cleared his throat and scrolled down the page.

"Let's... let's see..." Finally, he found where he'd left off, and after glancing at her- and finding her in the same position- continued._ "'... her dark eyes traveled up, in time to see Agent McGregor's horrified gaze as he knelt beside her, reaching out to take her head in his hand._

_He only briefly noticed the waitress bring her drink out to her, before returning to the page._

_"I never thought I'd see those dark eyes of yours again, Lisa." He gently ran his fingers over her scalp, along the crack that ran in a sweep, from her left ear, through her part, and towards her right eye, stopping just above her eyebrow. "We're gonna get you out of here, okay? We're gonna take you home."_

_She gave him a weak smile, reaching up to grasp his wrist in her weak, yet still iron grip. "Tim, I... I have no home. When Tibbs offered me a position as a liai..." She swallowed._

_"Liaison." He filled in. She nodded slowly._

_"I... I turned him down. He would... he would never allow a Mossad assassin to be a part of his team. Not if he knew of what I have done, truly done."_

_He shook his head...'"_

The ringing of a cellphone broke the spell he'd cast over his surprise companion, and she groaned in annoyance. After checking the ID, she slipped it back into her pocket, and then sighed. "It was wonderful, what I heard of it." He gave her a small smile.

"Thank you." She stood, and then seemed to think. Turning her attention back to him, she asked,

"Um... I... I know that this will be strange, but... could we... perhaps go to dinner? I... I would like to... to discuss your... book more. If it is all right."

He thought a moment, glancing at the clock on his laptop before meeting her gaze again. Then, he pulled a notebook out of his bag, quickly jotted something down, and tore the page out, folding it twice and handing it to her. "This is my flat number. There's a small salon not far from it. Meet outside my apartment and go for dinner tonight? Seven?" She felt a grin tug at her lips, and then unfolded the sheet. She quickly jotted down her own information, tore it off, and handed it to him.

"I will see you at seven." She turned to go, when he stood, grabbing her wrist.

"I didn't get your name." Her dark gaze flicked from his hand on her wrist to his eyes, and she licked her lips, whispering softly,

"I am Ziva. Ziva David." He grinned, gaze darting from her lips to her eyes. "And you are?"

He seemed to think for a moment, before his grin expanded. "Thom. Thom E. Gemcity."


	2. Chapter 2

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to mcgeeksgirl, Reader, JohnnyP86, Crawcolady and puppypants for reviewing 1.**

He left the café two hours after she did, returning to his apartment in the lower half of Paris, where he promptly put his notebooks and laptop away and then collapsed on his sofa, staring out at the Paris sky. This wasn't the penthouse apartment he'd imagined when he first arrived in the City of Light, but it was a start. Fitzgerald and Hemingway had both started out in small, cramped hovels in the dark alleys of Paris before garnering the fame they so craved, and if it was good enough for them, it was good enough for him. The soft clicking of nails on the hardwood drew his attention away from the window, and he turned, to see his pup, Jet- short for Jethro- come into the living room from the back of the flat. The dog, just three years old, jumped up onto the sofa, laying down and resting his head in his lap. He sighed, reaching up to stroke the dog's head.

He was exhausted, mentally. He loved to write, enjoyed writing, but it took its toll. Thankfully, the characters for his first novel had practically written themselves. And thanks to his cousin E.J.- an agent at NCIS for the last six years- he had all the highs and lows of being on a civilian agency team without actually being there. She sent him minute details on the various team leaders, agents and even the director, all of which he weeded through and then used to develop these characters. A moment passed, before he sat up, getting to his feet and going into the kitchen. He stuck his hands into his pockets, only to pull out a crumpled piece of paper. Slowly, he unfolded it, furrowing a brow as he read the name and number.

"Ziva... oh!" That's right, the girl who'd invited herself to listen to his novel at the café. They were meeting for dinner at the small café down the street tonight. Silent, he set the scrap of paper on the counter, and went about fixing tea. He glanced behind him when he heard whining, and saw Jethro sitting on the floor behind him, wanting attention. After a moment, he leaned down, scratching behind the dog's ears. "Go on Jethro..." He sighed, shaking his head. "I have got to talk to Sarah about using when picking animal names. Jethro's fine, cause I shorten it to Jet, but Leroy? Only Sarah could love a cat named Leroy."

When he finished fixing his tea, he took a seat at his desk, opening his laptop and proceeding to check his e-mail. He didn't get very far; an image of a living room popped up on the screen, followed by a voice. "There's my baby cousin! How ya doin' Tommy?" He sat back in his desk chair, watching as a pretty blonde slid into hers, some three thousand miles away in D.C. He snorted.

"I'm good, E. J. You?" She shrugged, tightening her ponytail.

"Eh, usual. Working all day, sleeping... most of the night." He wrinkled his nose, shaking his head in disgust.

"I really don't need to know about your love life with that idiot DiNozzo, Erica." She chuckled, sitting back in her chair and shaking her head.

"So how's the writing going, Tommy? Need me to get any more information for you?" He thought a moment. "No." She nodded, thinking. Several minutes passed in silence before she said, "I heard from Sarah today." His interest perked up instantly.

"How... how is she?" E. J. took a deep breath.

"Better. She had a bad relapse a few nights ago, but she's doing okay. Mom's watching over her. She was a nurse, so she's fairly well versed in eating disorders." He swallowed. "Don't worry, Tommy, she'll be okay. We caught it early-"

"She's in high school, E. J! She shouldn't be dealing with an eating disorder, she should be worrying about making friends and trying out for cheerleading and... and dating boys! Not that I wouldn't kick every guy's ass that asks her out, but still, those are the things she should be worrying about! Not ED." E. J. sighed, shaking her head.

"She's fifteen, Tommy-"

"She's still my little sister, Erica. I'm responsible for her-"

"You haven't been responsible for Sarah since you graduated in ninety-six! Sarah is responsible for Sarah-"

"But she's still my little sister, and I have a responsibility as her big brother to look out for her-"

"Tommy, it's okay. She will be okay. I promise. Look, I gotta go, but I'll keep you updated. I promise. I love you, cousin." He scoffed softly.

"Love you too, E. J." They signed off, and he pulled up the chapter he'd been working on. Though the novel was finished and the first draft sent to his editor, he still had twenty-some re-edits, and worked on them constantly. Currently, he was on yet another re-edit of Chapter twenty-three, where McGregor and Tibbs rescued Lisa from the torture camp in Afghanistan. The passage he'd been working on at the café had been one he'd just added in. His editor had stated wanting a more indepth look at Lisa's rescue, and so he was giving the book just that. He sat staring at the screen, suddenly becoming lost not in the words he was writing, but the image of the woman who had interrupted him that afternoon floated to the surface instead.

Her dark eyes, her long dark hair, the dimples in her cheeks, that shy smile. The soft skin beneath his fingers. Ziva.

Sultry, sexual, mysterious, a plethora of adjectives invaded his head, and after a moment, he pulled up the search engine, typing in her name. But before he could hit search, a knock sounded on his door.


	3. Chapter 3

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

She took a deep breath, running her fingers through her curls one last time before stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jacket. After returning to her hotel to check in with her team leader, before changing into a pair of jeans and a dark green tunic-style blouse. She wore a pair of black boots and had done only minimal makeup- more than what she usually did. She checked the time, and bit her lip. They'd agreed to meet outside the apartment complex at seven, and then walk over to the café, but she'd been too anxious to get on with the date that she'd gotten ready and arrived early.

The director- no, her team leader- would have her head if she jeopardized the case they were working in any way. She shouldn't even be out, but back in her hotel room, running surveillance with Bishop, but in all honesty, there was only so much of the perky, down-to-earth cockamamie blonde with the dark eyebrows she could take. She loved Bishop, she was her partner, had been her best friend from the moment she joined the team last year, but there was only so much of the woman's convoluted and eye-raising personality quirks she- or anyone, for that matter- could take before strangling the woman. How her husband put with her, Ziva would never understand. So she'd gotten ready and slipped out of the hotel room, racing across the city, asking for directions before finally ending at his door. She waited for a few moments, and then knocked again, hoping that she wasn't making a fool of herself, standing outside the door, only to find him not home at all. A moment passed before she heard a dog barking and the door opened; he stood on the other side, surprise in his green eyes as she met his gaze.

"I am early." She said, as he struggled to think of something to say. "I am sorry, I just..."

"No, no, please, come in." He turned back, shooing the dog away, before stepping aside. Once the door was open, she stepped inside, looking around. The flat was small, the kitchen and living room connected, a straight shot from the doorway. Off the living room was a short hallway, with a bedroom and bathroom, the typical studio apartment for one person. In the corner of the living room, near the window, was a writing desk, and beside that, was the small entertainment center and TV. The dog that she'd heard barking was curled up on the floor by the sofa, watching the new arrival with big, amber eyes. "Please, have a seat." She turned to him, giving him a big smile, going to the sofa and doing just that. The dog instantly sat up, jumping onto the sofa, to lick her face. She laughed.

"Jet. Jethro, down!" The dog instantly got down, sitting as close to her as possible.

"What is his name?"

"Jethro. My little sister named him."

"You have a sister?" He nodded, as he headed into the kitchen and started a pot of tea. "How old?" He turned back to her.

"Fifteen. Sarah. She starts her sophomore year of high school in two weeks."

"Why two weeks? Should she not be in school now?" He bit his lip.

"She's had some... health problems, and has had to take some time off from school. But she goes back next week. It's hard, being over here and not being there to help Sarah." She got up, going to him, watching as he fixed the tea. "Do you have any siblings?"

When he looked back at her and held out her cup, he thought he saw a brief flash of pain in her dark eyes. She accepted it with a smile, before saying,

"I have an older brother, Ari, and... a younger sister, Tali." He nodded, picking up his tea and taking a sip. "Tali was killed, when she was fourteen."

"I'm sorry." She gave him a small smile before shaking herself and looking around.

"I should not have arrived so early, but I could not help myself." She headed back into the living room, going to the small bookshelf, her eyes scanning the titles. He followed, watching her.

F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, Daphne DuMaurier, Tom Clancy, Clive Cussler, Stephen King. Sylvia Plath and Langston Hughes and the writings of Malcolm X. And a hundred other authors she had either never heard of or never read. Eventually, she wandered over to his desk, where his laptop sat, with the latest draft of his work open on it. "This is what you were reading today when we met." She turned to face him, eyes wide. "You are a writer?" He nodded.

"Yes."

"Have you been published?" She picked up her cup and took a sip. He shrugged.

"Small things; newspapers, magazine articles, a couple short stories, but never a novel. This is my first venture into the world of "novel writing" as it's called by some." He said, setting his cup on the circular coffee table and joining her at the desk. He searched for several minutes, before pulling out a thick accordion envelope, the tabs marked with numbers. "This is the first draft of my novel." Her eyes widened as she looked from it to him and back.

"Novel?" He nodded. "What is it called?" He lifted out the title page, handing it to her.

_Beneath the Blood Ribbon: The Adventures of Special Agent L. J. Tibbs_

"It's a mystery novel-"

"Like Tom Clancy?" He thought a moment, before shrugging.

"Kind of. Though Clancy writes more... naval and war stories, and I write more federal investigation mysteries." She raised an eyebrow, being careful to slip the title page back where he'd removed it from.

"What type of federal investigation?" She asked, sipping her tea. "Do you work with an agency?"

"No." She gave him an odd look. "I have a cousin who works for one though." He glanced at the time, nervous. "Should... should we go get something to eat?" She let him put the manuscript away and close down his laptop, before following him. As they headed towards the small café, she asked,

"Please go on, which agency does your cousin work for?" He grabbed the door, holding it open for the elderly couple exiting, and for her to enter. As they took seats, he said,

"The Naval Criminal Investigative Service. More uncommonly known as NCIS."

Her head snapped up, eyes wide.


	4. Chapter 4

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Earthdragon, don't worry, your question will be answered in this chapter. :)**

**Thanks to Sazzita, JonnyP86 and earthdragon for reviewing 2. **

"N... NCIS?" She choked out, voice strained. He nodded, as the waitress appeared with their coffees. He watched her pale, finding it curious as to why she'd suddenly gone from the beautiful sun-kissed tan to ghost-pale white.

"You okay?" She swallowed, nodding.

"Yes. I... I am fine. I just... I have... heard of that agency."

He raised an eyebrow, sitting back. "Have you? Most haven't. And those that have, confuse it with-"

"CSI." She finished. He nodded. She swallowed, struggling to clear the warning bells going off in her head before speaking. So she turned to something that had been at the forefront since they met. "Why did you agree to become a writer?"

"Agree?" A blush colored her cheeks a very pleasant rose. But he chuckled, and she relaxed. Sitting up, he folded his arms on the table, sighing. "I've always loved to write. Loved to read, too. When I was a kid... my mom would pick one classic novel, and she would read it to us before bed. Did the voices, the actions, she made the story come alive; they weren't just words on a page, they were a movie, playing out in my mind, and..." He thought a moment, shaking his head. "and I loved it. I loved every moment of it. When I got older, I decided that... that if people like Fitzgerald and Hughes could do it, I could do it. I could write. That I could make people fall in love or mourn or hate characters, all with the stroke of my pen. So, I set out to become a writer. Graduated from MIT with a degree in Biomedical engineering, so that I would have something to "fall back on" if the writing never worked out, and then... moved here. I've been here for the last two years, and I love it. I... I write articles for a few papers, have sold a few short stories, but, ultimately, this novel is going to be my big break. I know it."

A grin tugged at her lips; she could hear, could practically taste the passion he exuded when he talked about writing. Just as she was passionate about her work at NCIS, so he was with his writing. It was nice, to see someone with such a thirst for life, for making his own life without anyone else to guide him. Obviously, he had grown up in a loving, nurturing family, without any of the trials she had faced. Once their food arrived, they settled into comfortable silence, stealing glances or aimless chitchat. But once they left the café, coffees and pastry in hand, he led her not back to his apartment, but further down the street, towards a small alcove.

"Where are we going? Thom?" Her giggle died in the air, as they stopped, facing each other in the street. She was not used to being so familiar with people she just met. She blushed again, a deep strawberry coloring her high cheekbones this time. A crooked grin lit his face slowly, and he took her hand.

"I have somewhere I want you to see, Ziva." They shared another glance, before continuing on. Eventually, he tugged her down a dark alley, towards a small door, just off to the right. He pushed the door open, revealing the small foyer of a bookstore. Stepping inside, she found herself standing near a small relaxation area, complete with a sofa and a fireplace. It was quiet, just the crackling of the fire, and as he led her through the store, she found a small kitchen area where tea and coffee sat waiting to be drunk.

"I... I feel as though... I have crossed the wardrobe into Narnia. What is this place?" She asked, stopping and turning around slowly in circles, trying to drink everything in.

"Welcome to _Sagesse Roman._ Novel Wisdom Bookstore. It's small, but that's what makes it one of Paris's hidden gems, if you ask the right people. Come on." She followed him back to the mystery section, where he quickly scanned the shelves before pulling something down. He quickly checked that this was the one he wanted, before turning to her. She stood back, watching silently as he turned the book around and held it out to her.

Slowly, she took it, cradling it gently in her hands as though she were cradling a newborn. Her eyes scanned the cover, a beautiful wilted white rose upon a black background, spattered with blood; slowly, she turned it over, eyes widening as she found herself staring at the man before her. Her gaze shot up to him; he stood rocking back on his heels, hands in his pockets, the pastries and coffees they'd bought to go residing on the small coffee table near the fireplace, waiting to go.

"Is... is this... yours?" He nodded, shrugging.

"Some of my short stories, written not long after I got here. There's a small publisher here who agreed to pay me a small sum for each story written and published, but he wasn't too thrilled too find out it was a bunch of short stories, but he agreed anyway. And then his wife found out about me, and, turns out, she's an agent. An American publishing agent living in Paris, looking for an American author living in Paris. People would say coincidence, I say luck."

She shook her head, amazed. She had never known- nor met, for that matter- anyone who'd ever written anything and had it _published_.

"It is... beautiful." She turned it back around, opening it to the title page, her eyes scanning the words.

_The Rose Bleeds and Other Stories_

_By_

Her brow furrowed, and she looked up at him, before looking back at the ink. "This... this is your book, correct?" He nodded. "Then... then who is... who is_ Timothy McGee_?"

He sighed, rocking back on his heels again, and answered almost sheepishly, "Timothy McGee is my pseudonym."


	5. Chapter 5

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 2, 3 and 4; Sazzita, JonnyP86 and Reader for reviewing 4.**

"Timothy McGee?" He nodded. "But... but why write under that name?" They headed back towards the front of the store, taking a seat on the sofa near the fireplace. "How did you even come up with it?" She asked, incredulous. He chuckled, handing her the second cup of coffee.

"I'd tried thinking of a name to write under, from the time I was a child. But every name I came up with... they just didn't work. And then I started to think of some of the classic authors. Samuel Clemens wrote under Mark Twain; the Bronte sisters originally wrote under Currer, Ellis and Acton Bell; C. S. Forester was actually a man named Cecil Smith; George Eliot was a woman writing under a male name in the nineteenth century; Orwell's real name was Eric Arthur Blair; Sylvia Plath's_ The Bell Jar_ was originally published under the name Victoria Lucas- you get the idea. So, I thought about it, and after some major thought, I figured, the easiest way to pick a pen name would be out of my own name."

She raised an eyebrow. "Ah... I... I am sorry?" He waved it away.

"I rearranged the letters in my name to create Timothy McGee." He glanced around before getting up. When he returned, he uncapped the pen and wrote his name out on the sheet of paper he'd asked for. She leaned close, watching as he then took each letter, and below his name, spelled out his pseudonym. And just like that, in the matter of rearranging a few of the letters of his name, he went from being Thom E. Gemcity to Timothy McGee.

"Oh." She sat back, letting it sink in. Then, she turned to him. "I think I like Thom E. Gemcity better." He chuckled softly. "How... how did you get the name Gemcity anyway. It is... a very unusual last name."

She watched him bite his lip, as though he were thinking over what he was going to tell her. "It's complicated, but from what I've been able to discern from my family's history, one of our ancestors on my mom's side was of French descent and she was taken in a raid on the prairie by Native Americans. She later married a tribe warrior- in the eighteen-seventies, I believe- and her father's last name was Cote, possibly meaning 'edge' in French. Well, her Native American name, from what we've been able to gather, was Moema, meaning 'sweet'. Legend has it she called herself Moema Cote, to keep her lost family with her always, but when they placed the Indians on the reservations, the white teachers couldn't pronounce her name; the closest they came was 'Gemcity', so they called her Elizabeth Gemcity. _How_ they got Gemcity out of Moema Cote is a mystery. Her sons legally changed their names to Gemcity when they reached adulthood, and we've been Gemcity's ever since."

"That is..."

"Convoluted?" He volunteered. She thought a moment, before nodding.

"Yes." He laughed, and she found herself wanting to hear that sound again. They sat in silence for several minutes, before she set the book down. He watched her, before grabbing the pen and the book and heading up to the counter. She pulled out her phone, finding six texts and four messages from Bishop, and rolled her eyes. No doubt the blonde was frantic, but considering some of the things she often put Ziva through, she could go ahead and worry. It would do her happy-go-lucky ass good for once. She looked up when he returned, the book in hand, a receipt sticking out of the top. "What is this?"

"It's that book of mine. For you. So you can read it." She was touched, as she slowly took the book.

"It... you bought it for me?" He nodded. "But... but..." She glanced behind them, searching for the owners, but she hadn't seen anyone at the desk, nor among the shelves save for a few regulars come to browse.

"Who are you looking for?" She turned back to him, hearing the chuckle in his voice.

"The owner. This shop is... perfect, and I want to tell them."

"You already have." She furrowed a brow.

"What?"

"I'm the owner." The shock on her face caused him to laugh softly, and he took a deep breath. "After I moved to Paris, I came across this small shop. Turns out, the original owner was a Vietnam veteran, who had lost his wife back in the eighties, and moved to Paris, to be near his daughter. We got to be good friends; he gave me my start, gave me a job, helped me get onto my feet after I first moved here. When he died, I found out that he left the store to me." He shrugged.

"And so you will keep it until you make it big?" He thought a moment, wrinkling his nose.

"No, even if I make it big, I'll still keep it. This is the store that gave me my start, I can't abandon it. And I wouldn't put it in anyone else's hands unless they were someone I absolutely trusted."

She looked around, drinking everything in. "Well, it is beautiful. And wonderful, and perfect. Thank you, for bringing me here." He nodded.

"Welcome." They sat in the bookstore for the next two hours, reading and talking about writing and their favorite authors. When they finally left- after he locked up- they walked back to his apartment in silence. By then, it was nearly nine, and, she found that she didn't want to go back to the hotel, to the case they were working, to Bishop. By the time they returned to his apartment, she was anxious to ask, but didn't know how to bring it up.

"Would you like to come in for tea or... coffee?" She met his gaze, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"I thought you would never ask."


	6. Chapter 6

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to JonnyP86 and puppypants for reviewing 5.**

As the door closed behind them, she removed her jacket, which he promptly took and set over the back of the small kitchen table. She wandered into the living room as Jethro came bounding in from the back bedroom. Her gaze moved over everything, eventually ending on the window. Even though it wasn't the Paris skyline, it was still beautiful in its own way.

Before she joined NCIS- back when she was still in Mossad- she had traveled all over the world. England, Asia, Africa, India, South America. She had seen everything and met everyone she could; now as an NCIS field agent, the only other place she'd been had been Mexico. Well, and Paris.

"Here you go." She looked over her shoulder to find him holding out a steaming cup of coffee. Giving him a soft smile, she accepted.

"Toda." He raised an eyebrow, and she blushed. "Thank you." He nodded, before taking a seat.

"So, I've pretty much told you my life story. What's yours? Unless you can't say." She chuckled, joining him on the sofa. He took a sip, watching as she wrapped her hands around the warm mug.

"I can say." She bit her lip. "Where do you want me to begin?"

"The beginning is always good." When she didn't say anything, he elaborated. "A good novel starts with a strong beginning, allowing the rest of the story to flow and evolve towards a good, strong ending. It's always good to start at the beginning. Even the most heartbreaking tragedies start at the beginning."

"Like what?" She asked, looking up at him. He sipped his coffee, thinking.

"Like the_ Titanic_; the Hindenburg; the American Civil War. All started at the beginning, no matter the tragedy that unfolded at the end, the beginnings were always strong." She nodded, swallowing.

"I was... I was born in Israel. Be'er Sheva. At home. In nineteen-eighty-two. And you?" He chuckled.

"Mare Island Naval Hospital on the Mare Island Naval base northeast of San Fran in seventy-eight. Dad was a captain the Navy; his career was more important than his family. The Navy was his family. We were just people he lived with and provided for." She reached out, taking his hand and squeezing. "Go on, please."

She gave him a small smile, and took a deep breath. "My father is the... Deputy Director of Mossad. I was raised in Tel Aviv-" She shrugged. "And that is Ziva's story." He raised an eyebrow.

"That can't be all there is. Not for an individual as exotic and mysterious as you." She blushed. "You are Mossad? Or were?" She sighed.

"I was Mossad long before I ever came to America, long before I ever joined the agency as a liaison. But I am currently in the process of becoming an American citizen. I want to become a field agent, and therefore, I need to become an American."

"What agency?" He asked. She met his gaze. He shook his head. "Just curious." She sighed.

"The Naval Criminal Investigative Service. NCIS."

His eyebrows shot up as she met his gaze. "Small world. I have a cousin that works in NCIS, and you... you are a Mossad liaison attached." She bit her lip, unsure if she should ask or not. Eventually, though, she said,

"Who... who is your cousin?" He took another swallow of his coffee and set the cup back on the table.

"We call her E. J. Erica Jane Barrett. She's eight years older than me." She nodded.

"I know her. Not very well, but I do know her." They lapsed into silence for several minutes, before he asked,

"So, what made you join Mossad? Old family tradition?" She shook her head, sitting back and turning to face him.

"Israeli sense of duty." He raised an eyebrow.

"Really? So who recruited you?" She matched his raised eyebrow.

"Why do you want to know?" He shrugged, leaning back against the arm of the sofa, watching her.

"I find people fascinating. Their histories, their presents, the decisions they've made. I like to know what makes them tick, what their quirks are, their... personality traits. It helps me develop more interesting and engaging characters."

"And you think I would be good character?" She asked, narrowing her eyes slightly. He tilted his head, grinning.

"Yes, I think you would be." He reached out, gently squeezing her hand. "So who recruited you? Father? Uncle? Brother?" She kept silent for each suggestion, only a small smile playing on her lips. He leaned close, whispering the last suggestion. _"Boyfriend?"_ Her dark eyes locked on his, as she replied,

"Aunt. Sister." She caught the surprise in his eyes, and enjoying the minor thrill of the game they were playing, added one more log to the slowly building fire as she leaned towards him, their lips inches apart. _"Lesbian lover."_ His eyebrows rose and she caught the spark within those emerald orbs.

"You're good. Almost got me off the question." He replied, pulling away. He took a sip of his coffee, before leaning towards her again, eyes darting to her lips and back before he brushed his lips against hers in the gentlest, lightest of feathery kisses. _"Almost."_

Her eyes had closed during the fleeting kiss, and when she looked up at him, she found herself wanting to experience that brief kiss again and again. Taking a deep breath, she moved closer, until their thighs brushed and their hands touched. Then, she leaned closer, her own eyes now going to his lips. Her voice was soft, filled with unfamiliar longing and desire, and as she reached down and tangled her fingers in his, she breathed, "I volunteered."

He raised an eyebrow in surprise, and she watched as something sparked within those beautiful green eyes of his; they were a deep shade of emerald, a shade she'd never seen before. A moment passed, before she leaned up; he met her halfway, closing the gap between them.


	7. Chapter 7

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

Her eyes snapped open, and she slowly turned, finding herself in bed, his arm draped over her stomach, holding her to him. A moment passed, as she took her time sitting up, gathering her thoughts, trying to remember what happened the night before. Glancing down at him, she found that he slept peacefully, and then it hit her like a bullet piercing the night.

_They stood, stumbling over the coffee table, never breaking the kiss, as they began to shed clothing. With each article dropped, their desire grew, propelling them further and further towards the point of no return. As the bedroom door banged against the far wall, they tumbled into bed, giving into the carnal urges they'd tried to deny from the moment they met._

She looked around, before spotting her cell on the nightstand. Slowly, carefully, she reached over him-

He grabbed her wrist, his green eyes snapping open. She turned to him, seeing the surprise in those green depths. "I just... want my cellphone." She replied. He took a deep breath, releasing her wrist and sitting up. He handed it to her, breath stilling as their fingers brushed. "I'm sorry, I normally don't-"

"- do something like this." They stopped, realizing they'd spoken at the same time. She chuckled softly, nervous. After several moments of tense silence, he pushed the blankets aside, getting up.

"I'm gonna... take a quick shower. Help yourself to whatever's in the kitchen." She nodded, surprise in her eyes as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. Once he was gone, she got out of bed and rummaged around for a shirt. Unsure of where her top had gone, she managed to find a button-down in one of his drawers and pulled it on. It hit mid-thigh, leaving her long legs exposed. Once she was covered, she headed into the living room, finding their clothing, as well as the rest of the pieces to the puzzle that was the night before. They hadn't been drunk, but apparently, their desire had been enough for her to barely remember the night before.

She started a fresh pot of coffee, and as she waited for it to finish, she wandered over to the desk in the living room. The bathroom door shut and she went to the laptop, opening it up and turning it on. While she waited for it to warm up, she allowed herself to rummage through the desk, finding the accordion folder of his novel's first draft. She couldn't resist leafing through the pages, becoming lost in the words, unaware that someone had pulled Skype up on the other side. But it wasn't long until she heard a familiar voice. "Tommy! What's- _Ziva_?"

Her head snapped up, eyes widening in shock to find herself staring at Erica Jane Barrett, more commonly known as E. J. by her family, halfway across the world. "A... Agent Barrett, what... what are you doing-"

"I was calling my cousin. What are _you_ doing here, Officer David?" E. J. replied.

"Everything all-" Ziva turned, to find Thom standing in the living room, just out of his shower, hair still wet, a towel over his shoulders, and one wrapped around his waist. Her dark eyes skimmed quickly over his toned abs, and she felt her mouth watering and her pulse beginning to speed up. He was even more gorgeous than she thought when they first met. Obviously, he worked out; enough to make every woman swoon if caught shirtless. He glanced from Ziva to the computer and back before taking a deep breath and stepping forward. "Um... Ziva, E. J., what are you-"

"I was calling _you_. I don't know what Officer David was doing, or why she's wearing your shirt, but-" E. J. glanced from the Israeli to her cousin and back. She watched him use the towel around his neck to dry his hair. She took in Ziva's disheveled appearance, her wild hair and the bites on her neck, the scratches on her cousin's chest- and quickly put two and two together. "Oh my God!" Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped as everything finally clicked, and she shook her head, closing her eyes. "You... you slept with my baby cousin, David? Are you insane?"

Before the other woman could respond, he was leaning around her, talking to the agent. "E. J., it's sweet that you care, but I'm not eight anymore. You can't tell me what to do- I know that you care and that you're just trying to protect me, but I don't need it."

"I... I am going to go get dressed." Quickly, she slipped out of the chair, grabbing her discarded clothing as she rushed back to the bedroom. Once she was gone, he turned back to his cousin. He huffed in annoyance.

"Look, Tommy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to react like I did, it's just..." E. J. sighed. He waited, giving her time. A moment passed, before she puffed her cheeks out and continued. "Officer David... she has a reputation at NCIS."

"Reputation?" He raised his eyebrows. "Agent _DiNozzo_ has a reputation, E. J., you know that, and yet you're dating the guy anyway. But Officer David-"

"She's Mossad, Tommy. They can't be trusted."

"Says who, E. J.?" He countered, narrowing his emerald eyes. She sighed. "And why should it matter? I'm not NCIS. I don't work for any federal agency in the States. I'm a _writer_, who owns a _bookstore_ in _Paris, France_! What does it matter to me if she's a Mossad Officer or an NCIS Agent? It doesn't. Under all that, she's just a woman, E. J. Just like you. That's what I see, not the Officer."

"You just met her-"

"And I've learned more about her in the last twenty-four hours than you've learned about that idiot Agent DiNozzo in four years!" He sighed, seeing the hurt flash over her face. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, I just... it's my life, E. J. Let me live it. Please." She gave him a small smile, a sad smile.

"I love you, Tommy."

"Love you, too." Once they'd signed off, he straightened and turned, to find Ziva standing in the hallway entrance. She opened her mouth to speak, but he quickly moved past her, heading back to the bedroom to get dressed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

Once he was gone, she headed back to his desk, and picked up the accordion folder. Taking a seat at the desk, she opened it up and pulled out the first chapter, dark eyes reading through it for several minutes. "I'm sorry about my cousin-" She quickly shoved it back into the folder, turning to find him standing in the middle of the living room, now fully dressed and watching her. "What are you doing?" She glanced down at the accordion folder in her lap, and sighed.

"I... I was... I want..." She took a deep breath. "I was wondering if you would allow me to read it? Please?" He raised an eyebrow, surprise in his green gaze.

"You... you want to... _read it_?" He asked, completely taken aback by her request. She nodded. Sure, he'd had agents read his work, his own family, but a complete and total stranger? Or, better yet, the woman he'd met at a coffee shop and then slept with after dinner all in one night, wanting to read it? He thought about it. If she read it, she would surely give him better responses than his family had. She'd be critical, analytical, ask the right questions, because it was what she'd been trained to do. She could give him a better critique than anyone else, surely, save for his editor. Puffing out his cheeks, he nodded. "Okay. If... if you want you, you're welcome to read it."

She gave him a big smile, a small shiver of excitement racing up her spine as the prospect of reading his novel. "Thank you so-" But her phone rang, and she quickly glanced at the ID. Her excitement soon withered, as she recognized her partner's name. Glancing up at him, she held up a hand, before flipping the phone open. He chuckled softly, going into the kitchen. "David... oh, hi Bishop." She glanced over her shoulder at him, watching as he poured a cup of coffee before setting the cup down and filling Jethro's bowl. "No, I... I know I didn't come back last night-" She winced, holding the phone away from her ear.

"I know! I thought you'd ended up in a ditch or something last night! Do you know how worried I was?"

"I... I know, I am sorry-"

_"No. You don't get to tell me you're sorry! You know why? Because I was the one who had to deal with the nasty phone call this morning!"_

"You called-"

_"No! He called me! When you didn't check in at seven-"_

"I was out. With someone."

_"Who? We don't know anyone in Paris except for-"_

"It was a date, okay, Bishop?"

_"A da- I had to deal with_ him _this morning. He called me at oh-three-hundred and demanded why you hadn't checked in. Oh-three-hundred, David! Do you know how many hours of sleep I got thanks to your little disappearing act? Two! And that's because I was up until oh-one-hundred running through your leads and cataloging evidence to ship to Abby! And he was nasty, David! Really, really nasty! Nastier than he usually is!"_

"He is not nasty, he just... does not like you."

_"I_ know _he doesn't like me! He didn't like Langer either and was glad to see him go to Rota-"_

"The only one he likes is that idiot DiNozzo." She muttered under her breath; his head snapped up at the name.

_"Are you kidding? DiNozzo is his whipping boy, remember? But until we find another agent to replace Vance, he's never going to be happy, because the team's out of whack."_ She furrowed her brow, before asking,

"What is whack?"

_"Never mind! The point is, because you didn't come back last night, or check in when you were supposed to, I got the proverbial head slap from halfway across the world, thanks to you and your inability to take an investigation seriously! So the next time we get a call from Gibbs, don't expect any sympathy from me, because I've already been chewed out, and I don't need to go through it again!"_ Without another word, Bishop hung up. After a moment, she snapped the phone shut, turning to him.

"My... my partner. She is... high-strung. Former NSA. Had to deal with our boss this morning-"

"Agent Gibbs?" Her head snapped up, as she joined him in the kitchen and accepted the cup he held out.

"How do you know about-"

"E. J. talks about Gibbs often. He adores her, but then again, who doesn't adore E. J.? Her and that forensic are the only two that don't get on his nerves-"

"Abby." She filled in, causing him to stop mid-sip.

"Yeah. The Goth with the tattoos." She nodded. He thought a moment before chuckling. "You know, E. J. isn't all that impressed with her. Calls her a six-year-old."

"That would be more appropriate for Tony." He wrinkled his nose.

"No, pedophile or rapist would be appropriate for Agent DiNozzo. E. J.'s been dating him for four years, and he still, gawks after anything in a skirt. Thank God she doesn't put up with it." She chuckled, sipping her coffee.

"How do you know so much about those who work at NCIS?" She cocked her head to the side, waiting his reply. He sighed. Setting his cup down, he went over to his desk, and grabbed the accordion folder containing his first draft. Returning to the kitchen, he set the folder on the counter and pulled out the first chapter, sliding it towards her.

"When I first started working on this novel, I asked E. J. to send me funny stories that had taken place that day or that she'd heard about involving some of the other teams. Eventually, it evolved into profiles of her coworkers from her standpoint, and some of the quirks were so... off that I decided to use them for some of my characters. I don't know any of these people personally- except for E. J.-so they aren't accurate, or even caricatures, but it makes each character memorable." He glanced at the oven clock, and set his empty cup in the sink. "I have to get to work. And... you had better go back and check in before your partner blows a gasket."

She quickly placed the first chapter back in the folder and gathered it to her chest, following him to the door. As they moved to part ways, he turned back, pressing a kiss to her lips. Before she could say anything, he was gone, and after a moment, she turned and headed the opposite direction, towards her hotel.


	9. Chapter 9

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 5, 6, 7 and 8; Sazzita and JonnyP86 for reviewing 6 and 8; earthdragon for reviewing 7; Girl with a pink flying carpet, for reviewing 8.**

She slipped into the room, closing the door softly behind her, and finding it quiet. Realizing she was alone, she relaxed and moved away from the door. As she peeled off her jacket, she slowly set the accordion folder on the dresser top and moved to open it-

Not daring to breathe, she turned, to find Bishop watching her from the bathroom doorway. Her long blonde hair was down around her shoulders in loose waves- had the woman never heard of an up do whenever they were working?- and she narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "'bout time you showed up, David."

"Sorry. I was... busy." Bishop's brown eyebrows shot up into her blonde hair, and she choked on a laugh.

"'Busy', that's your excuse?" She shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest. "Did you ever consider that we were busy too? Trying to bust this terrorist-"

"I have told you, time and again, Bishop, but Ari Haswari is_ not_ a terrorist."

"You seem so certain, David." Slowly, the other woman wandered over to her. "Look, I don't know how you do things in Mossad, but at NCIS, when we go on a covert, we don't keep tabs and then wander off and do whatever the hell we want because we feel like it. We get what we need to done, and then we go home. Now that may not be how they do things at Mossad, but that's how they do things here at NCIS. Got it?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I am starting to think I would have preferred Agent Todd." And then, without another word, she picked up the folder and went to the table by the window, laying the folder on it and pulling out the first chapter.

"What is that?" The Israeli's dark head turned towards her briefly.

"A novel." She flipped over the cover page, not noticing Bishop skulk up behind her.

"It doesn't look like a novel." She jumped, grabbing the stitch in her chest as she turned around to face her partner.

"It is bad enough when Gibbs does that to me, but do _you_ have to do it too?" Bishop glanced at her before looking back at the pages.

"Sorry." The blonde leaned close, reading over her shoulder; she turned her head slowly, unnerved by the other woman's closeness.

"Do you mind?" After several minutes, Bishop backed up, muttering something about anti-social behavior before returning to the bathroom. Once gone, she turned back to the chapter, letting herself become lost in Thom's writing. It was beautiful, brilliant, amazing in every way. His attention to detail was astounding, and his ability to spin a tale with the simplest of phrases was a trait to be admired. But what got her the most were the characters. She could see each of her coworkers in every character- the way Agent Tommy was in a devoted relationship to Agent Maria- even going so far as to propose, but still spent his free time flirting and playing with women; how Tibbs could break a suspect in a matter of a few minutes. "And he knows no one at NCIS except Agent Barrett." She chuckled softly, flipping a page. So engrossed in the novel, she didn't hear the phone ring, and only looked up when Bishop left the bathroom, toothbrush dangling from her mouth.

"'isho." Quickly, the blonde removed the toothbrush. "Sorry, Boss... yeah, she's right here." The former NSA agent turned, holding the phone out to her partner. "He wants to talk to you." She sing-songed, sticking the toothbrush back into her mouth and resuming her cleaning as she headed back to the bathroom, though she left the door open slightly, awaiting the storm that was about to break. She took a deep breath,

"Hi Gibbs." Dead silence met her. "Um, I... I am checking in..." She bit her lip.

"I can tell, David." She swallowed. Even over three thousand miles away, Gibbs still wasn't happy with her.

"I am sorry I did not check in, I just... I... I had..."

"Had what?"

"Had a date." She whispered. She could hear the eyebrow lift even over the phone. "And I... with Agent Barrett's cousin."

"Agent... Barrett's... cousin..." He spoke slowly, as though not believing what she was saying._ "David, have you lost your mind? You didn't check in or return to your hotel room to review the case because you had a date with Agent Barrett's cousin? I... I..."_ He spluttered for several minutes, before, _"Put Bishop back on, David. Now!"_ Swallowing, she did as told, going to the bathroom and handing the phone to her partner before quickly changing clothes. As she pulled her shoes on, she listened closely to Bishop's kind of conversation, before slipping into the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. She left the door open slightly, and only looked up when she heard Bishop get off the phone.

"He is not happy with you." Quickly, she turned to find the blonde standing in the bathroom doorway. "You really screwed up, David. As far as Gibbs is concerned, you're on probation-"

"So I am no longer involved with the case?" She asked, her mind quickly latching onto spending as much time with Thom as she could. Bishop snorted.

"No, that means that while we are working the case, I am not to let you out of my sight. He said that if he has to, he will remove you and send someone else in-"

"Like Agent DiNozzo?" She watched as Bishop's face went from shock to horror to absolute disgust in a matter of minutes. The blonde visibly shivered, letting out a disgusted whimper before responding.

"God no, at least I hope not." She tossed her hair, watching as her partner quickly put her hair into a French braid and tucked it under. "No, he'd most likely send over Agent Todd instead of DiNozzo. And honestly? Better her than Cassidy. I can't stand that woman, she's a pain in the ass; thinks she's better than everyone just because she worked at the _Pentagon_." Bishop made air quotes around Pentagon, rolling her eyes. Ziva watched her, silent; she had only met Agent Cassidy once, and quite liked the woman, for her extensive knowledge of various military weapons. Agent Todd, she wasn't so sure about. The woman struck her as a prude, and someone she'd rather stay away from.

She gave the blonde a big smile before exiting the bathroom. "Well, maybe you will get your fish."

_"Wish!"_


End file.
